


One More Miracle (Don't be Dead)

by Icka M Chif (mischif)



Series: Bunnymund Holmes [13]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Attempted Murder, Claustrophobia, Gen, Jackrabbit Week, M/M, Panic Attacks, Reichenbach Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischif/pseuds/Icka%20M%20Chif
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Staring into the darkness over the edge of Reichenbach Falls where Bunny and Pitch had just fallen was the first time in Jack’s life he’d ever felt his blood run cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Miracle (Don't be Dead)

**Author's Note:**

> Background Writing Music: [Escape](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pC1CRTeY-A4) by Mount Eden.

* * *

Staring into the darkness over the edge of Reichenbach Falls where Bunny and Pitch had just fallen was the first time in Jack’s life he’d ever felt his blood run cold. 

“Bu… Bunny?” He whispered, the paper with Bunny’s farewell to North crumpling in his hand, eyes scanning the area far below for any sign of his companion. It’s too dark to see, the entire area dark with shadows-

The call on the wind to carry down got stuck in his throat when he sensed someone behind him, a second too late. The shadows seem to swarm together to form a looming figure behind him. 

General Kozmotis Pitchner, Pitch Black himself. 

“Hello, Jack.” Pitch drawled, a shark like smile on his face. Jack released the letter, dropping into a defensive position, but Pitch struck out like a serpent, ripping his cane from his hands. 

Jack scrabbled after it, but was blocked by Pitch stepping into his space, leaning so his golden eyes stared into Jack’s from mere inches away. “Goodbye, Jack.” 

Hands and shadows pushed at him, flinging him over the edge of the falls. 

Jack gasped, limbs flailing as the wind brushed past him, not slowing his fall. He tried to shout for the wind to help him but the air was stolen from his lungs. 

Darkness covered his vision and Jack knew no more.

* * *

Jack woke up to the feeling of something soft under his cheek. He took a deep breath, inhaling the musky scent of Bunny and the damp smell of freshly dug earth. Safe, then. He nuzzled a little closer, Bunny shifting his grip. 

“Jack?” Bunny whispered, damp nose ghosting Jack’s cheek. Jack hummed in response, not wanting to move. He didn’t hurt, but it felt like he should and he didn’t quite want to wake up yet. “Can y’restart yer heart for me luv?” 

Oh. Oh, dear. 

He took a deep breath and held it for a second, getting his heart to beat once, then twice, quickly falling into its natural rhythm. Memories trickled in, he remembered Pitch, and falling, then…. He couldn’t remember. 

Bunny pressed a hand to Jack’s chest, letting out a small sigh as he felt Jack’s heart beat.How long had Bunny been holding him with no pulse or breath in his lungs? Wondering if he was dead? 

“Sorry.” He murmured, moving a hand to run a hand through his hair, realising that Bunny was trembling slightly. That had to be one of Bunny’s worst nightmares, unable to tell if Jack was going to wake up, or actually dead for good…. 

Then he remembered that Bunny had fallen first, and Jack had thought _he_ had died.

Jack punched Bunny in the arm, the closest thing he could reach. “You asshole!” 

Bunny yelped and startled, sending both of them rocking and crashing to the floor. Temper shot, Jack took a breath to start shouting, only to be hauled back up towards Bunny, the detective burrowing his head against Jack’s chest, one ear pressed against his heart, his grip on Jack tight enough that the prick of his trembling claws actually hurt. 

…. This wasn’t normal behaviour for the usually in control detective. 

Bunny’s harsh panting breaths were loud, the shock of it enough to startle Jack out of his anger, replaced by concern. He dredged up a lullaby that his Mother used to sing to Mary when she had nightmares, and started humming it. Bunny’s ears were pressed flat against his neck, never a good sign, so Jack ran his hands down the delicate shell of them, pausing occasionally to groom the fur at his ruff. 

Bunny gave a soft groan, pressing closer, Jack taking this as a sign to continue. 

Hands occupied and on automatic, glanced around the area, trying to figure out what happened. They were underground, which accounted for the scent of damp earth, in cavern shaped like an egg standing on end, just barely tall enough for Bunny to stand up in. That alone was enough to tell him that Bunny was involved in it somehow. 

The light was created by strange glowing plants with egg-shaped bulbs, set up in such a way there was few shadows, which had the side effect of clearly illuminated the walls. And the lack of visible exits or entrances. Which was slightly alarming, and highly claustrophobic. 

Jack shivered and turned his attention back towards Bunny, rather than the however many unimaginable tonnes of earth above him and the sky. The past few months since Jack had revealed his past had been busy, Bunny getting closer to unravelling Pitch’s network the past few months, the tangled web of lies and background dealings fading away under the clever detective’s fingertips. 

Unfortunately, the level of violence against Bunny had escalated along with it. Bunny had been coming back to Baker Street with odd or minor injuries the past few weeks. 

Which was nothing new, but after nearly being run over by a hansom cab, a brick falling from a rooftop, and a thug attempting to bash him over the head all in one afternoon, it was obvious that it wasn’t accidental. Pitch wanted Bunny to stop. 

And he wasn’t afraid to use bystanders to do it. Tooth and a group of her friends had been poisoned during tea a few days ago. Nothing fatal, thank goodness, but uncomfortable for everyone involved. 

Which had been the last straw. Bunny gave Sandy enough evidence to close the net on most of Pitch’s dealings in London, then they had skedaddled. Following Bunny’s instructions, Jack and North in various disguises had made their way to Victoria train station, fleeing London. 

Leaving Pitch standing on the sidelines of Victoria station, gnashing his teeth. The villain had caught up with them for a while in Canterbury, but they’d lost him as they’d fled to the continent. 

While in Brussels, they’d gotten word that the plan worked, the majority of Pitch’s men in London had been captured, striking a blow against the Nightmare King. Bunny had tried to get North and Jack to go back to London for Tooth, but neither of them had budged. It was just as clear to them as it was to Bunny that Pitch would be looking to retaliate. 

Which was why Bunny’s decision to take a walk when they reached the small town of Meiringen in Switzerland had alarmed Jack. North had gone with Bunny for protection, leaving Jack to keep an eye on the hotel. 

Where’d found a note from Bunny, requesting that Jack make up a medical emergency in town that required North’s attention and escort North back to the hotel. And realised that Bunny meant to leave himself alone and vulnerable to draw Pitch out. 

He’d played along, getting North and sending the doctor back to the hotel, implying that there was something more sinister that required more sword skills than medical skills. That got North fired up and striding eagerly towards the hotel. Jack left him to it, turning back about part way and hurrying back towards where he had seen Bunny.

He’d found the letter for North under a rock just before the last turn to the top of the Reichenbach Falls. It was short, and simple, with a tiny sketch of a Russian Faberge Egg at the bottom. 

‘Dearest North- 

Thank you my friend, for everything.

-Bunny’. 

Which had prompted Jack to run to the falls, just in time to see Bunny fling Pitch over the edge of the falls in one of his strange martial art moves, Pitch latching on and dragging Bunny after him. 

Anger made him want to stop his heart again, to cool his temper so he didn’t _feel_ like this. Because it was obvious now that Bunny had _planned_ this, lead them here to Reichenbach to fake his own death. Most likely out of some ill conceived plot that if Pitch believed Bunny to be dead, he’d leave the others alone. 

It didn't work like that. 

“How?” Jack took a deep breath, reining in his temper and making an effort to keep his voice from shaking. “How did you survive?” 

Because that was the one thing that Jack couldn’t figure out. How they went from falling head first off a cliff into a small bubble of egg shaped dirt. 

Bunny made a heavy noise. “The Earth...” He said roughly, like it pained him to say the words, his grip on Jack tightening, his claws digging into Jack’s skin. “Like the wind protects you, she can...”

He’d never seen Bunny use such an ability before. Plants grow at Bunny’s touch occasionally yes, but never the earth move for him. 

“Got to keep a trick up your sleeve?” Jack said, trying for joviality. 

“No.” Bunny said harshly, tugging Jack closer, until Jack was straddling his lap. Jack allowed him, starting to get worried about his dear friend. He could feel that it wasn’t just Bunny’s hands that were trembling, his heart was beating insanely fast, breath coming in ragged gasps, almost hyperventilating. “My clan… Everyone… The tunnels… they all died. The shadows… Ripped them apart.”

Logically, Jack knew that Bunny had to come from somewhere, that had to be more not-Rabbits like Bunny somewhere out there. 

He’d theorised long ago that they were probably dead, but he’d never had any proof to back it up. 

Jack shivered. The verification wasn’t pleasant. 

Bunny’s hatred of Pitch often seemed illogical, but if they’d been killed by Pitch’s shadows, that put everything in a different light.

And the massacre that had made Pitch famous happened in Australia, where Bunny’s accent was from. Pitch had eradicated the mysterious Pooka race, save for one rumoured survivor. 

Jack had a feeling he now knew what happened to that survivor. And now he had a name for what Bunny was. Other than ‘infuriating’. 

Pooka. 

“Okay.” Jack said quietly as Bunny’s breathing finally settled down from his frantic panting. “We’re okay.” 

“Sorry… I….” Bunny swallowed. “The darkness…. All I could see was them bein’ slaughtered… And ya didn’t have a pulse…” 

“I’m sorry.” Jack whispered. He’d seen this before, at a dinner party. A visiting soldier who had fought in the American Civil War had been in attendance. People had been unsubtle in their requests of stories of honour and glory of battle, to which the soldier had politely, but firmly, turned down. 

It would have been unremarkable, except that a servant opened something bubbly, the cork exploding out of the top with a loud boom. The soldier had hit the ground and started shouting for re-enforcements, as if he were in the middle of a bloody battlefield with men dying on either side. 

Jack and several of the men had gotten him out of there, but the soldier had fought them, believing himself to be captured by the enemy. It took a while to get him calmed down, the poor man apologising profusely. He did not like to think of his time in the War, but sometimes the War followed him wherever he went. Which was why he’d come to Europe, to hopefully get away from it. 

‘Soldier's Heart’, it was called. The medical doctor at the party had clucked his tongue and shook his head. It was believed to be a weakness in character, a craving, missing the battlefield. 

There was nothing _weak_ about Bunnymund Holmes’ character. And Jack sincerely doubted that Bunny craved watching his family be slaughtered by Pitch and his shadows. 

And as far as he could tell, Bunny never forgot anything, remembering the minutest detail with startling crystal clear accuracy. 

Including, it seemed, things it would be a mercy to forget.

“Not your fault.” Bunny whispered, capturing Jack’s hands in his own, and pulling them away. Bunny leaned back, allowing Jack to see face, the closed eyes and the drying tear tracks. Bunny released Jack’s hands to scrub at his face with weary grace. “Apologies for-”

“If you’re apologising for seeing you at a low point, you can stuff it.” Jack growled, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. He cradled Bunny’s cheek in a hand, wiping the tears from his fur with the soft cotton with the other. “If it’s for faking your death, we will be discussing the terms of your apology later. I am quite cross with you.” 

Bunny let out a quiet huff, leaning into Jack’s touch as he opened his eyes. “I am completely amenable to the prospect.” He said, sounding entirely too relieved and pleased at the idea of Jack losing his temper at him. 

Jack shook his head, his heart doing a little flutter at the fondness in Bunny’s emerald green eyes. Seriously, this crazy, incredible, infuriating man. 

“Where are we?” Jack asked instead, pulling his attention away from Bunny and glancing around the room again. 

“Ah…” Bunny tugged on his clothing, smoothing some of it out. “You remember Thoreau’s joke about his neighbours digging a hole to China-?” He offered with a weak grin. 

Jack took a moment to look around the small enclosed cavern, remembering what Bunny had said about the earth protecting him, and came to the conclusion that the detective wasn’t lying. 

… Great.

He took a deep breath and held it, fighting the instinctive panic at being trapped without an exit, taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment before letting it out slowly. 

“The tunnels can go anywhere.” Bunny said quietly. “I had originally planned ta go ta Russia, there are places I remember visiting with North as ‘safe’. But when I grabbed ya, I just… bolted.” 

Not a good idea for the long term, but it probably hadn’t been a bad plan at the time.

Jack nodded. “I take it you originally had a plan?”

“Yeah.” Bunny agreed, which made Jack feel slightly better. The spur of the moment ideas tended to be the ones that got them in the most trouble. 

“Good.” He pushed himself out of Bunny’s lap, taking a couple of steps back, to the other side of the cavern, then sat down. The cavern was small enough that their feet brushed when he unbent his legs. “Now that I’m out of strangling distance, you will tell me your plan. All of it, down to the slightest detail. And then we will decide where to go from here. Together.” 

Bunny looked him over for a moment, no doubt analysing Jack’s words to his body language and coming up with the fact that Jack did mean precisely what he said. It was something that had taken Jack an embarrassing amount of time to learn, for all that he was a detective, subtlety rarely worked well on Bunnymund Holmes. 

He got a nod in return, then Bunny began to speak. He started with the the information Jack already knew, their efforts in London, and then spiraled outward from there, casting and creating a dark net that covered much of Europe, with tendrils reaching farther out, tentative footholds in China and America as well. 

Not that it was difficult. Tensions were high between Britain, Portugal and France due to the African and Indian colonization race, and amassing of weapons between Germany, France, Austria-Hungary, and Russia.

And Pitch had made a web of darkness, joining it all together, with Pitch at the centre like a fat black spider. Collecting secrets, manipulating men, controlling things from the shadows with his collection of Fearlings and Nightmare Men.

London was only a part of it. 

“Names.” Jack growled, reaching into his vest pocket and pulling out a small notebook and pen. He pulled the cap off the pen with his mouth, talking through gritted teeth. “I need names.” 

He got a blank look in exchange, then Bunny started rattling off names, not bothering to make the connections or how they fit in, which was fine with Jack. He made two lists, jotting the names down in the shorthand code he used while on jobs for Manny. 

He used up three pages of paper in his tiny scrawl before Bunny finally stopped, swallowing as if his throat was dry. Jack debated making a snowball for him to soothe his throat, but that involved pulling moisture of the air. Or in this confined area, them. 

“I’ve got enough.” He said, closing the book and capping the pen once more. 

Then he leaned forward and smacked Bunny on the arm with the book. Bunny yipped, startled. “Wot was that for?!” 

“For being a Glocky Numbskull!” Jack shook the book at him. “What do you think my job entails?!” 

Bunny shot him an offended look, rubbing his arm. “Stealin’.” 

“Stealing _secrets_ , you Ninny-Nincompoop!” Jack growled. “Adler’s my _job_. Frost is **me**.” 

He got a strange wide-eyed look, as if pieces of a puzzle were falling into place in the detective’s head. 

Jack huffed, shaking his head. “I’m a _Spy_ , Jellyfish Brains. I steal information for Manny.” He held up the book. “Half these names I recognise or heard their names in passing as ‘People of Interest’ for the British Government.” 

Which meant that there were files, dossiers on them. Including the best way to neutralise them out once enough information against them was gathered and the need arise. 

He could see Bunny’s eyes suddenly light up, the little grey cells in the detectives brain lighting up with new possibilities. 

“What I propose is an exchange of information.” Jack waved the notebook in the air. “You give Manny what you have on these names, he shares what the Government has on them, he can take them down, and we focus on the ones that the Government doesn’t know about. Gets us both back home to 221b Baker Street faster.” 

The others would need to be seen as being in mourning and believing they were dead to keep up the charade. Tooth could be trusted to let North and Mary know without blowing their cover, North was too emotional to take the news circumscently. Forwarned or not, Jack was fairly certain Mary was going to kill him as soon as she saw him for pulling such a stunt without clearing it with her first. 

“Together.” Bunny repeated, as if verifying that to himself. 

Jack nodded, a sharp jerk of his head as anger flared. “That is, if you’re planning on returning-?” 

Bunny hesitated, regret twisting his features. “I calculated the odds of the three of your survival to be significantly higher if I was removed from the picture.” He said, staring at Jack, as if willing him to believe Bunny’s words. “I would rather know ya to be alive and grieving than next to me and dead.” 

Jack couldn’t quite refrain from the sarcastic smile that twisted his features. Technically, he had been dead for longer than Bunnymund Holmes had known him. 

“Ya know what I mean.” Bunny frowned at him. There was the stubborn lilt to his jaw that Jack usually loved so much, that Bunny was sure he was correct and would go to the ends of the earth to prove it. Even if he was wrong. 

“Didn’t work out so well, did it?” Jack snarked. 

Bunny met his gaze. “No.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Pitch should have never gotten his hands on you.” He said quietly. 

…. And now Jack felt like an ass. 

Not as big of an ass as Bunny, but still a bit of an ass. 

“So sorry that my being distracted by your _imminent demise_ ruined your plans.” Jack growled out. “The next time you even think of dictating what happens in our relationship without me, I’m hanging your Hope-and-Springtime filled furry tallywags from the chimneypiece. Understood?” 

He got wide-eyed look in return, Bunny reflectively drawing his knees up to protect said squishy ballocks. Jack got the impression that Bunny hadn’t been thinking in terms of their relationship when he had calculated his decision, merely that Jack was as important to him as his long-time companion North. 

Jack ran a hand through his hair, feeling slightly dizzy as his heart pounded in his ears. While he appreciated that he was dear to Bunny, and he knew that Bunny did care for him, he wished that they’d had some form of negotiations what their relationship was before this. If they were equal Partners, or still courting, or Bunny viewed him as some sort of Mistress on the side to the detective’s marriage to the All Mighty Power of Science. 

For all that Bunny had trouble reading Jack, Jack could not read Bunny’s heart. Thought processes weren’t terribly difficult, but thoughts weren’t emotions. 

Emotions that were currently threatening Jack’s ability to focus, to think clearly. 

He held his hand up, a silent plea for time as he drew his knees up, resting his head on them, and stopped his heart. Jack immediately felt calmer, the wave of emotions subsiding, leaving his thoughts feeling clear again. He kept breathing, partly to give himself something to focus on, partly to let Bunny know that he was still alive. 

Even if Bunny had had a plan for going over the falls, Jack had not. He’d almost died. Again. 

Jack didn’t know if the fall would have actually ended him, he didn’t _need_ to breathe, so drowning was out, but he was uncertain to how much damage he could sustain before life left his body for a final time. If the impact would have snuffed what life he had left of his body, or if he could be torn to pieces and put back together again like some sort of living snowman. 

Somehow falling off a cliff seemed a lot more…. _final_ than being shot at for being a thief. 

Such was his adventurous life. And truly, scares aside, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

He took a deep breath and let it out, feeling more in control once more. Being around Bunny made his heart want to beat, which wasn’t always helpful. 

Priorities. They needed to deal with Pitch, quickly, before the villain realised that they weren’t dead. Wallowing in self-doubt could wait. 

Pitch had a Centre, just like they did. Belief fed that Centre. If they could remove Pitch’s support network from him, it would remove that belief in Pitch, weakening both Pitch and his Centre. 

Jack was pretty certain that Pitch’s Centre was Fear. The villain seemed to thrive on it. Fear didn’t do much damage to Hope, but it was hard to be Joyful while terrified for your life. 

He wondered what effect, if any, taking down Pitch would have on himself. 

“Can your tunnels get us to Westminster?” He asked quietly.

Bunny frowned. “I never said I was handin’ my information to Manny.” He said sulkily, protesting for form’s sake more than the fact that he meant it. 

Jack rolled his eyes. 

“Alright, fine.” Bunny grumbled. “It’s a better plan than what I got. And I can get us there faster than a ‘possum up a gum tree.” 

It took a moment for Jack to parse that sentence. “Okay.” He agreed, leaning forward and holding out his hand. Bunny took it, the pads of his fingers warm against Jack’s palm. 

They pulled each other up, Bunny letting out a groan as he got fully upright and Jack wondered how much time had passed. Not that it really mattered, strong emotions always took a physical toll. He’d make sure Bunny got something to eat and drink once they got to Headquarters. 

He lurched forward, tucking his head under Bunny’s chin, wrapping his arms around the detective. “I am so **very** glad you are alive.” He said, voice muffled by Bunny’s shirt. “But I’m still cross.”

Bunny tilted his head, snuffling Jack’s hair. “I reckoned.” He said quietly and Jack huffed in amusement. It didn’t take the World Greatest Detective to figure that one out. 

“Alright.” He said pulling back, feeling the weight of being Adler falling over his shoulders like a stiff cloak. “How do we do this?” 

Bunny’s hand slid down to rest on Jack’s waist as he looked around the egg shaped cavern. “We run.” He said, fingertips rubbing a small circle just above Jack’s belt. It was distracting, and would have been horribly so if his pulse had been beating. Bunny hesitated, clearing his throat a little. “This will probably be the only time I offer, but if you would consent to ride upon my back-?” 

“I’ll ride you any way you request.” Jack promised, purposefully misconstruing the detective’s words. It got a choked off laugh, some of the tension leaving Bunny’s frame, which was what he was aiming for. 

“Ta.” Bunny said, green eyes sparkling as he took Jack’s hand. Bunny knelt down, holding his hand up, the two of them moving like a pair of dancers as Jack stepped around to lean forward, pressing himself against Bunny’s long spine. Jack took his hand back, wrapping his arms around Bunny’s neck, careful not to squeeze. 

After all, Bunny still needed to breathe. Jack took a deep breath and restarted his heart. His pulse loud in his ears after the lack of it, and he felt slightly nervous, anticipatory.

“Ready?” Bunny asked, haunches rising so that Jack was suddenly perpendicular to the ground. He wrapped his legs around Bunny’s narrow waist, then paused, wiggling slightly to toe off his shoes, kicking them away so that their sharp heels didn’t jab into Bunny’s ribs. 

“Ready.” He agreed, pressing his legs to Bunny’s sides, and tucking his feet up by his butt, trying to keep his limbs out of the way. 

Bunny nodded and did something with a hind leg that Jack didn’t see. But suddenly there was a huge looming tunnel in front of them, large enough that Jack could easily stand up in it. He could feel the tension suddenly running through Bunny’s body, the muscles literally locking up. 

The Pooka had died in the tunnels. 

He had a flash of insight as to why he was on Bunny’s back instead of running after. Bunny would know that he wasn’t alone, that this trip was different. That this wasn’t the massacre of his people, not with being able to feel Jack so closely. 

“Hand me a light?” Jack asked, flailing a hand off to the side, in Bunny’s periphery vision. Bunny startled, then gave himself a shake. 

“Yeah.” Bunny belatedly agreed, grabbing the nearest glowing egg and passing it to Jack. It was surprisingly cool to the touch as Jack wrapped his fingers around it, angling it so that it illuminated the ground in front of them. Bunny took a deep breath then let it out. “Thanks.” He murmured. 

“Welcome.” Jack smiled as gave himself a little shake, then darted into the tunnel. 

It was brighter than Jack expected, patches of what looked like sunlight shining in from above, ferns and flowers dotting the ground and the walls, like a primitive rainforest. 

It was surprising pleasant, if not for the feeling that the tunnels should not have been so echoingly empty. The only sounds were those of Bunny’s feet hitting the soil, his breathing and occasional grunt as he made a gravity defying leap. 

Then the ground was curving upwards, and he could feel Bunny’s legs digging into the dirt, getting a good grip before leaping up into the air-

And suddenly they were in the middle of Manny’s office, Manny himself sitting behind his large polished wood desk, Katherine and Nightlight looking surprised to see him. 

Jack cleared his throat, sliding off of Bunny’s back, although he kept one hand on Bunny’s shoulder as the detective caught his breath from running halfway around the world. 

“Please pardon the interruption and lack of scheduled appointment, but-” Jack gave them a wide bright smile as he muttered the most terrifying words known to man. 

“-We need to talk...”

* * *

Epilogue: 

“Mail is here, Ma’am.” Mary said quietly as she delivered the stack of letters and telegrams for Tooth to peruse. More condolences and well wishes, she was sure. 

It had been a week since North had returned from the continent, deep sorrow lining his face, making him appear decades older than he was, bringing news of both Jack and Bunnymund’s death. 

Both houses on Baker Street were quiet and somber, not needing the black drapings of mourning to create a bleak atmosphere. 

Tooth was handling the correspondence at the moment, North was in place to do so, his hands shaking too much as the grief seemed to cripple him. Mary could write neatly enough, but it seemed cruel to request it of her. Mary kept busy, taking care of the house without prompting. 

“Thank you, Mary.” Tooth said, clasping her hand over Mary’s and giving it a squeeze. It was the only contact Mary would currently allow, no matter how much Tooth wished to embrace the girl, let her cry on Tooth’s shoulder. 

And cry on Mary’s shoulder. But they all reacted with grief differently, and right now, North needed her to be steady and strong, her mourning for their family could wait. 

Mary gave a small bob and walked off, her face the placid mask it had been since they had received the news. 

Tooth idly sorted through the mail, sorting them into piles, bills, invitations, various correspondence, cases that wouldn’t be solved. 

Her fingers stopped as she touched thin watercolour paper, similar to the kind that Bunny had scattered all over his rooms for drawing and sketches. A feeling of loss jabbed at her heart as she held it up, finding no postmark on it, merely ‘Toothiana’ written in a calligraphy hand she did not recognise. There were several fingerprint smudges on the envelope, as if it had passed through many hands to get to hers. 

Curious, she broke the wax seal on the back, pulling out a single sheet of heavy paper. On it was a watercolour and ink sketch of a church, covered partially in snow, a few purple blossoms peeping out of the thawing ground. She peered at it closely, noticing how the shadows seemed to have eyes and limbs, crawling out towards the flowers and their protective ring of snow. 

Hands shaking, she turned the card over and gasped. She clasped a hand to her mouth, quickly rising to her feet and practically running up the stairs to their living room. Mary startled, nearly dropping her dust cloth as Tooth passed her, then followed without prompting. 

North was curled in his chair in front of the fireplace, but he wasn’t staring at the flames, but at the open door to 221b, which none of them had been able to go into since North’s arrival. Her husband blamed himself for not being there, for not sensing the trap Pitch had laid out for them.

Tooth settled herself on her husband’s lap, drawing his face towards her. “I need you to read this and tell me I’m not wrong.” She said quietly holding up the postcard so that Mary could see the illustration first, then North. 

“That’s the church Jack-” Mary whispered, then snapped her jaw shut, eyes staring around the room as if there might be someone watching them. 

Tooth hadn’t seen the church where Jackson Overland became Jack Adler, but she’d had her suspicion. North took the card from her hand, staring at the artwork for a moment before swallowing and nodding. He flipped it over, eyes going wide as he read the words. 

It was as if a light went on in North’s eyes, losing the dull sheen they’d had since his return, life returning to her husband. He took a deep breath for an undoubtedly loud booming laugh and Tooth clapped a hand over his mouth, drawing his head down towards her shoulder. 

“The walls may have ears.” She murmured. He nodded, shoulders shaking as he muffled his laughter into her neck, holding her tightly enough that her feathers protested the treatment. She didn’t mind, the pinpricks of pain feeling good after the past week of numbness. 

She tugged the note free from his grasp, passing it over to Mary, who flipped it over to read Jack’s casual scrawl on the back. 

‘ _Most humble apologies for the delay in returning to you, urgent business has unexpectedly intervened and is keeping us occupied with friends. We will contact you again when our circumstances have changed._

_With deepest affection,_

_Hope and Joy._ ’

The date was for the day after Bunny and Jack disappeared. 

Mary’s face crumpled up as she pressed her lips together, the tears she’d yet to shed finally welling up in her large brown eyes. Tooth reached a hand out, Mary taking it and allowing herself to be drawn into their circle of limbs, hugging them both as she cried tears of joy onto North’s broad shoulders. 

Jack and Bunny weren’t dead. They were in trouble, they had help, and they’d return when they could. 

For the moment, that was all they needed to know. 

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> '[Soldier's Heart](http://historyofptsd.wordpress.com/early-history/)' is a period term for what is now known as [Post Tramatic Stress Disorder](http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/index.shtml). I've included as much historical context as I could work in.
> 
> There's also several Victorian Slang terms, and kudos to whomever gets the Slayers reference.


End file.
